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Wednesday, 30 March 2011

The fates of those condemned to punishment are often revealing windows into the psyche of another culture. Through a dramatic example, they show us at once what qualities are deplored and which are admired. It bears little wonder therefore, why criminals gain such infamy in the popular mindset. Particularly where sympathy may stain a reputation of atrocity. The men and women condemned to the depths of Tartarus in Roman and Greek lore are no different, and their stories no less remembered for it (for a story of another such man, please click here). One such man was Ixion, whose tale merges ignominy and tragedy in equal measure.

The Anguish of Ixion
Painting by Jules-Élie Delaunay.

Ixion, like the hero Bellerophon (for more about him, please click here), was of a cursed line. His father, whose name was Phlegyas, was also tormented in the Underworld, as was his sister, Coronis. One day the god Apollo, enamoured of Coronis, had ordered a white raven to guard her when his divine presence was required elsewhere. She was pregnant with the Sun god's own son, and was not to be touched by another. With Apollo's absence however, Coronis soon became infatuated with a local Lapith chieftain, a man named Ischys. The day came when Apollo returned, and the god asked the white raven if Coronis had been kept safe in his absence. The bird, fearful of its master, told him of the affair it had witnessed. Filled with fury that the raven had not pecked out the eyes of Ischys for daring to even look upon Coronis, Apollo unleashed a curse upon the bird so powerful the feathers on its body were badly scorched. Ever since this time, the plumage borne by all ravens has been black, a living reminder of their progenitor's fate. Appalled, the god of the sun pierced her with an arrow, slaying her instantly. The soul of the girl was borne to Tartarus, where it was ever after punished, yet upon her funeral pyre, her unborn son was saved by Apollo, overcome as he was by remorse. Her son was named Asclepius, and would become the god of medicine and healing, patron god of doctors. Phlegyas however, was driven mad with anger at the killing of his daughter. In retaliation, Phlegyas torched the sacred temple of Apollo at Delphi itself, committing the ultimate act of blasphemy, such that his name came to mean 'the fiery one' in the Greek tongue. Inevitably, Apollo struck the man down.

Mount Olympus
Photograph taken by Aline Zienowicz.

Such was the legacy left to Ixion, who had seen both his own father and sister slain by a god. Thirsting for vengeance, Ixion would ever after pit himself against Olympus, even the father of gods himself. One day, Ixion, like his sister, fell foul of dangerous passion. Wishing to be wed to the maiden Dia, daughter of Deioneus, but unable to afford the steep bride price (the opposite of the dowry) required, Ixion despaired. Driven to desperation, Ixion turned to deceit. Telling Deioneus that he would present a valuable gift to him in return for Dia, the two were wed, and soon ran away. In revenge, Deioneus seized Ixion's horses as compensation for the crime. Angered in turn, Ixion tried his hand at deception once more. Inviting Deioneus to a great feast, ostensibly to settle matters rationally, Ixion prepared his trap. Deioneus arrived and moved to embrace his son-in-law, but reconciliation was far from the mind of Ixion. Approaching slowly, Ixion suddenly and violently pushed Deioneus into the fire, and so 'he was the hero who, not without guile, was the first to stain mortal men with kindred blood'. The relationship between guest and host was a holy one in ancient times. A host was supposed to treat a guest with charity, respect and kindness, and a guest should honour his host suitably. It was a bond so sacred that it's patron was the Thunderer himself. Yet Ixion had not only disrespected his guest, he had murdered him, polluting himself with the most savage of crimes.

Ixion is bound to the Wheel of Fire
Engraving by Bernard Picart.

Slowly falling into insanity, Ixion wandered the plains, spurned by all men, so horrified were they at his crime. Seeing the outlaw living so wretchedly, and recalling the tragedy of Ixion's family, Zeus offered the hand of redemption to this polluted man. The king of the gods even brought him to the banqueting table on Olympus itself, inviting Ixion to dine with the gods. However, at his moment of forgiveness, Ixion did not forget, nor forgive. Just as the gods had treated his father and sister so lamentably, Ixion resolved to punish even Zeus himself. Just as Apollo had made sport of Coronis, now Ixion turned his attention upon Hera, queen of the gods and the wife of Zeus. Plotting in his mind, Ixion resolved to abduct the goddess, once again violating the bond of guest to host, this time violating it in the name of its very patron. Zeus however, was omniscient. Seeing the dark thoughts brewing in his mind, Zeus could not believe that Ixion would dare do such a thing, but prepared a test nonetheless. Crafting an image of his wife from the clouds, Zeus created the cloud woman, Nephele, who resembled Hera perfectly. To Zeus' dismay, Ixion seized Nephele and stole away to his quarters on Olympus. Ixion even begot a son by Nephele, named Centaurus, a man so deranged he would one day take one of the mares which lived on Mount Pelion as his wife, and thus sire the race of Centaurs, creatures who would ever after cause great strife in the kingdoms of men.

The Thunder god was stricken with fury. Not content with violating the bonds between men, Ixion had violated the bonds between the gods themselves. Zeus hurled a thunderbolt at Ixion, blasting him from the summit of Mount Olympus. Furthermore, Zeus ordered Hermes to bind Ixion to a wheel made of fire, a wheel decreed to spin across through the skies for eternity, as Ixion looked on alone at the world he had polluted, victim of the terrible agony of his fiery bonds...

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Today we return to the grand story of the First Crusade, one of the most grandiose operations in history, unrivalled in scope in all that had gone before it. On the 27th of November 1095, a day which shook the world, the charismatic Pope Urban II had cried out to the powers of Christendom to aid their beleaguered fellow Christians in the East against the rising power of Islam (for the story behind Urban's legendary speech, please click here). The gathered crowd of clergymen, knights and nobles were both stunned and moved. Little did the Pope realise that in that moment he had created an idea, an idea that would mobilise the nations of Europe like never before.

The Crusaders rally to the Crusade
Engraving by Alphonse-Marie-Adolphe de Neuville.

When the Supreme Pontiff had finished speaking, and tears were in the eyes of all men present, one among that crowd rushed forward. His name was Adhemar, and he was also the Bishop of Puy-en-Velay in France. Kneeling before the Pope, he vowed to see God's will be done. Urban II bent down and sewed a cross onto the robes of the Bishop. Adhemar of Puy was the first man to take the cross, and the first crusader. Urban II called to the crowd once more, declaring this man to be his personal representative, as Papal legate, on the Crusade, imploring more to follow his example. Many more followed in Adhemar's wake. Many more indeed. News of the Pope's call spread quickly across the Kingdoms of Europe. Bishops and legates soon appeared in towns and cities across the land, carrying the Pope's message to the people, both lord and peasant alike. "Undertake this journey for the remission of your sins, with the assurance of the imperishable glory of the Kingdom of Heaven!" was a potent message, particularly to the pious, yet beaten down serfs of the feudal medieval world. Tens of thousands answered the Pope's call across Europe, from all walks of life. Men, women, monks, knights, lords, Princes, Counts, hermits, peasants - all took the cross.

Godfrey of Bouillon leads the First Crusade
Image taken from a 13th Century Illuminated Manuscript.

Soon the sheer scale of the response took the Pope by surprise. Whilst continuing his journey through France, Urban II even had to urge women, monks and the sick to stay behind, so vast were the numbers. Yet the force he unleashed was too great even for the Church to control. Royalty too, soon began to stir. Due to an unusual set of circumstances, the three most powerful monarchs in Europe were unable to personally take the crusade (however, later crusades, famously the Third Crusade, were under the direct leadership of Kings). King Philip I of France had been excommunicated for polygamy by Pope Urban II himself. The Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV had been excommunicated for scheming against the Church. In England, King William the Conqueror had been dead only eight years and the Norman mastery of England still less than thirty years old. The new King William II's hold on the throne therefore needed a strong hand, so he too was unable to go. The Spanish were locked in battle with the Moors, wrestling for control of the Iberian Peninsula, already engaged in an effort to drive Islam from Europe, an effort known as the Reconquista, and so they too were out of the picture. However, in their wake royalty would still attend. After much deliberation, representing the Kingdom of France would be Hugh of Vermandois, brother to the disgraced King. Representing the Holy Roman Empire would be numerous lords and barons of the German King, most important of whom was Godfrey, Lord of Bouillon, who would became a key leader of the Crusade. Representing the Kingdom of England would be Robert, Duke of the Normans and son of King William the Conqueror and brother to King William II. Accompanying him would be Stephen, Count of Blois, son-in-law to the Conqueror (who would also be father to the future King Stephen of England, last of the Norman Kings). From the Norman lands in Southern Italy came Bohemond, the Prince of Taranto and his nephew Tancred. Each man brought with him a sizeable contingent, though overall credit for the First Crusade was to rest largely with the Normans. As the Kingdoms of Europe prepared themselves for the Crusade, Pope Urban II set a date for its departure, August 15th 1096, on the Feast of the Assumption. However, as always there were fanatics. One contingent decided to leave without delay.

﻿

Peter the Hermit guides the people to the Holy City
Image taken from a 13th Century Illuminated Manuscript.

﻿
Pope Urban II was not the only charismatic man of the cloth at the time of the Crusade. The story too, tells us of a hermit, by the name of Peter, who was a priest of Amiens. Years before, Peter had embarked upon a pilgrimage to the Holy City, but had fallen into the hands of the Turks, who had tortured him, deep in the dungeons of Anatolia. Seizing on the chance offered by the Pope, the hermit showed the marks of his torture before the eyes of the people, crafting powerful words and speech, urging the liberation of the Holy Lands. Preaching to the people of the Low Countries (the future Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg - all vassals of the Holy Roman Empire in 1095), Peter gathered a vast following. Departing early in 1096, leading anything from forty to eighty thousands peasants, knights and nobles, this 'Crusade of the People' marched forth to Constantinople, but not before some stops on the way. Riding a donkey and dressed in simple robes, Peter led the host to the city of Cologne to preach the Crusade. But here this 'rogue crusade' hit its first troubles. Some were impatient and called for an immediate march to Jerusalem. Peter's vision was dashed with a dark new side to the Crusade which manifested early in 1096. An alarming many in Europe saw the Jews as enemies just as much as they did the Saracens. Some questioned why they should travel thousands of miles to fight a foreign foe, when another lay within. This sentiment reached boiling point in the Crusade with a bloody vengeance. Over eight hundred years before the Third Reich, Jews were systematically slaughtered throughout German towns and cities. Thousands were put to the sword, hundreds were locked inside buildings and burned alive. The People's Crusade had run amok. The Holy Roman Emperor, away in Southern Italy, was outraged when the news reached him. The Church universally condemned the anti-Semitism, denouncing all involved.

The People's Crusade in Anatolia
Image taken from a 15th Century
Illuminated Manuscript.

The First Crusade had got off to an appalling start, but things would get worse before they got better. A force loyal to none, the hermit's 'army' continued through Eastern Europe, through Hungary to the borders of the Eastern Roman Empire. The Roman Emperor Alexius Comnenus had a dilemma. If the rogue crusaders attacked his lands he would have to retaliate, yet this would jeopardise the ethos of the Crusade, which was supposed to be aiding him. If they entered Constantinople, who knows what they would do? After pillaging the city of Belgrade, the crusaders entered Roman territory. But Peter's 'army' was little more than a collection of ill-equipped and uneducated vagabonds and thieves than the might of Christendom. Peter accepted the Emperor's offer of an escort through his lands, but his followers were a force of their own. Causing havoc in the city of Nis (in modern Serbia), as many as ten thousand troublemaking crusaders were slain by the Roman garrison, yet still they marched on. Passing through Sofia and reaching Constantinople at last, the Emperor was bemused by what he saw. Hardly any of the crusaders even wore armour, let alone training or organisation. Yet these brigands were to face the might of the Turks? Men who had bested the Roman army itself? Little wonder the Emperor's daughter, Anna, described them as "a host of barbarians 'bursting forth into Asia in a solid mass". Despair though he did, the Emperor saw a good man at heart in Peter, even if he held little control over his mob. Urging him to await the leaders of the true Crusade, the Emperor begged him to wait. But his followers would have none of it. Reluctantly, the People's Crusade was quickly ferried across the Bosphorus, into the lands of the Turks.

Amongst the rabble were two groups. One, consisting largely of the Germans who had so violently slaughtered the Jews, who urged immediate action, and another more cautious. Impatient, the Germans advanced forth, finding the fortress of Xerigordon unnoccupied. In fact, the country itself seemed empty. Where were the Turks? The fortress did however, have many riches left in it, left for the taking. The Germans charged in and revelled in their luck, short lived though it was. For they had walked straight into the trap laid by Kilij Arslan, Sultan of the Great Seljuk Empire. Quickly sending forth men to surround the fortress, the Turks promptly cut the water supply to the castle. The Germans soon found that gold could not quench their thirst. So they received their justice, as they starved and died of thirst. It is said that some resorted to drinking the blood of their horses, and their own urine, before succumbing in the burning heat. The cautious crusaders had heard nothing from the Germans for some days, until a messenger arrived, telling them that they had in fact taken and looted the city of Nicaea, and plunder was all theirs! Little did the crusaders know that this man was actually a Turkish spy... All order thrown into confusion, the greedy crusaders plowed on to the city, through a narrow gorge. The Sultan once more sprang his trap. Thousands upon thousands of arrows fell upon the crusaders, and thousands fell, unarmoured as they were. Tens of thousands of crusaders were killed or sold into slavery, and barely a few hundred of the great host made it back to Constantinople. One among the survivors however, was an old hermit...

Often passed over in the story of the First Crusade, the People's Crusade is a shocking precursor to the very recent and very real persecutions of the twentieth century. The Crusades had barely begun, and the darkest sides of religious conflict had been illuminated. Though quickly eclipsed by the events of the true First Crusade, the People's Crusade is a story which must be known. It was with a heavily tarnished image that the true crusaders marched to Constantinople in August 1096, a force of Princes, knights and soldiers...

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Though thought of primarily as born of modern horror and medieval superstitions, the werewolf is in fact a far older creation. Indeed, in the lore of ancient Greece, it is a part of the creation. Not so long ago I wrote of the story of the Titan Prometheus, and his ceaseless struggle for the betterment of the lot of humanity (to find it quickly, please click here). The Titan, at great personal cost, gave to man ingenuity, craft and fire. But the struggle for the balance between men and gods was far from over. Indeed, it had barely begun. Enraged by the Titan's audacity, Zeus the Thunderer, King of the gods, determined to exact terrible retribution upon mankind for their complicity in accepting the forbidden secrets of the gods.

The Golden Race
Painting by Lucas Cranach.

The race of men crafted by the Titan Prometheus and his brother Epimetheus were not the first people to inhabit the Earth, but the third, known as the Bronze Race. In the earliest times of the cosmos, the first race of men were the Golden Race. Living under the rule of the Titans, with Kronos as their supreme deity and King, men "lived like gods, with carefree heart, remote from toil and misery". This was an age without suffering or sin, an age of bliss, an age of unending bounty upon the Earth. Men did not have to work the land to sustain themselves, as the land itself burst forth with the fruit and crop of the Earth. Mankind harvested the land at his leisure, and their bodies did not grow old. A time before the creation of women, the Golden Race eventually passed into sleep, with only their spirits left walking the Earth. After the younger gods cast the Titans from the Heavens into the depths of Tartarus (for this story, please click here), Zeus created a new line, the Silver Race. These people however, were nothing of their forebears in spirit. Cruel and selfish beyond imagining, there were no limits to their crimes. When their trespasses distracted these men from the honour they owed to the gods, in a fit of rage Zeus hurled them all into the depths of Tartarus, the land of fire and ash within which all evil souls are bound.

Hermes bears Pandora to Epimetheus
Painting by Jean Alaux.

Disheartened by the failure of the Silver Race, Zeus turned to Prometheus and Epimetheus to furnish the Bronze Race (this they did, and their story is told here). With the chaining of Prometheus to endless torture for his spurning of the gods in favour of man, Zeus turned his vengeance upon man. Summoning all the gods of Olympus, Zeus ordered Hephaestus to forge a human shape, and all the goddesses to furnish it with charm and scheming thought. Their creation was the first woman, named Pandora (meaning "All gift", symbolising the hand each divinity had played in her creation), conceived as the truest curse of man. The gods brought Pandora before Epimetheus, offering her as a wife to him. Promtheus warned his brother not accept any gifts from Zeus, but Epimetheus had ever lacked his brother's wits. Welcoming her in and accepting her, Epimetheus and Pandora wed. Epimetheus however, possessed a jar, a spoil taken from the House of the gods by Prometheus, which contained "harsh toil and the grievous sicknesses that are deadly to men". Epimetheus forbade Pandora to open it.The gods knew very well, however, that the very curiosity that Prometheus had fused into the minds of humans would conquer her sense of obedience. One day, her curiosity afire, she unstoppered the jar, and to her horror, all evils rushed forth from the darkness within, unleashed upon the world. Grief, war, malice, hate, plague, death: all these things stormed forth as a pestilence upon the world of men. Panicking, Pandora closed the jar, trapping only a single thing within it which had not yet escaped - Hope.

Lycaon becomes the wolf
Engraving by Hendrick Goltzius.

The Bronze Race ever after was corrupted by the curses of Pandora, and were the first to work bronze, crafting great weapons and engines of war. Reduced to new levels of savagery by their wretched state, Zeus once again grew displeased with man. Assuming the shape of a man, Zeus came down to the Earth and walked among men. Seeing their cruelty all around, he one night came to the palace of Lycaon, the King of Arcadia. Giving a sign that a god had come, some people bowed in reverence, but not all. That night, as the King of the gods slept in his palace, no thoughts of piety were in the mind of Lycaon. Deigning to test the god's immortality, Lycaon considered murdering the god as he slept. His blade however, did not pierce the sleeping god. Lycaon therefore struck down one of the men who showed reverence to Zeus and ordered the servants to prepare him as though a roast boar. The next day when Zeus came to the banquet, the servants placed the meat before the god and Lycaon. Lycaon eagerly devoured his meal, but at once the omniscience of Zeus saw through the deception. The slaying of a guest was one of the gravest of crimes, second only to tasting the flesh of man. In his divine fury, the Thunderer hurled lightning to and fro. The palace crumbled under his rage, and Zeus turned his wrath upon Lycaon's fifty sons, slaying them all with thunderbolts. Lycaon fled in terror to the countryside, but Zeus placed a curse upon him:

" He tried to speak, but his voice broke into an echoing howl.

His ravening soul infected his jaws;

His murderous longings were turned on the cattle;

Still possessed of bloodlust was he.

His garments now were as a shaggy coat, and his arms as legs "

- ZEUS PLACES THE CURSE OF LYCANTHROPY UPON LYCAON

His fury mounting, Zeus sent a great deluge upon the Earth. Torrential rains battered the gound and churned the seas, as the oceans rose to swallow the land. All but the mightiest pinnacles were claimed by the stormy seas, and all but two humans perished under the violent ocean. Prometheus, distraught at the fate of his progeny, spurned Zeus one last time. Calling to his son Deucalion and his wife Pyrrha, he warned them of the coming flood, and ordered them to built a craft to keep them afloat. The waters eventually subsided and the craft was set down atop Mount Parnassus, and the two humans emerged. Giving a sacrifice to Zeus, begging his mercy, they got it. Remembering that not all humans had refused him reverence, Zeus was filled with guilt at what he had done. Sending the Titaness Themis to the humans, he bade her restore the human race. Themis instructed Deucalion and Pyrrha to walk along the beach, casting stones over their shoulders without looking back. Wherever a stone cast by Deucalion hit the sand, the stone became a man; wherever Pyrrha hurled a stone, the stone became a woman. This was the Heroic Race, the heirs to the Bronze Race. From this progeny would be born all the greatest heroes of legend, from Perseus to Achilles, and all who would be joined in war before the Gates of Troy...

A powerful episode in the saga of Creation, the story of Pandora and Lycaon marks the birth of the transition from the Age of the gods to the Age of man. From here on in, the line between god and man would be increasingly blurred, until the climactic Trojan War, which saw the human sons of gods march to war with each other, as their parents do in the skies above. What of Lycaon? Perhaps the first werewolf to appear in Western legend, his great legacy was to give his own name to his affliction. For his name became the word in Greek for wolf (lycos), and the term used to describe the condition by which a man becomes a wolf is known today as lycanthropy, from the Greek lycos and anthropos - 'Wolf' and 'Man'. The story is present in various guises in ancient lore, all readily available at a nominal price from Amazon:

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Regaining consciousness after his harrowing ordeal, Dante finds himself in a harsh and cruel new place (for the precursor to this, please click here). The eerie, vast abyss of Hell plays tricks on our pilgrim's mind, as the true extent of unholy retribution against the damned slowly becomes clear. "New sufferings and new sinners suffering appeared to me, no matter where I turned my eyes, no matter where I gazed". His vision unblurring and his senses taking hold once more, fresh horrors await the traveller to the impious land.

Cerberus
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

No sooner than Dante spies his guide, Virgil, awaiting nearby than a dreadful alliance of foul things assault his senses. A fetid smell rises in the air, as thundering rain batters the ground. This is no ordinary rain however. Dense hail and filthy water churn with snow upon the ground of Hell, the disgusting slush spreading nausea all around. Just then, a howling roar echoes through the pounding rain, and our pilgrim starts in fear. Looking around in terror, his eyes find its source. The mighty hound of Hell, Cerberus, lies sprawling in the squalor, his three throats bellowing through the downpour. As sickening in sight as his lair is in smell, the gigantic beast is a horror for Dante to look upon. Eyes swollen red, black drool pouring from his three mouths and more a mound of twitching muscle than a true form, the polluted claws slash and mangle the spirits of the damned all about. The demonic dog suddenly is made aware of the presence of Dante and Virgil, snarling and baring his fangs in anger, aware that they do not belong in his realm. Virgil, however, is unperturbed. Kneeling into the grotesque muck, the great poet takes up a handful of the horrid slime and casts them into the greedy jaws:

" As a howling cur, hungering to get fed,
quiets down with the first mouthful of his food,
busy with eating, wrestling with that alone,

So it was with all three filthy heads
of the demon Cerberus, used to barking thunder
on these dead souls, who wished that they were deaf. "
- VIRGIL WARDS OFF CERBERUS

Though marshy underfoot from the heavy rain, our two poets journey on into the pestilence. As they journey on, Dante becomes aware that he walks upon the cursed shades, beaten down to near nothingness by the torrential rain, struggling in the choking sludge. One among them sits up straight, a man Dante once knew in life, a fellow Florentine. Ciacco is his name and for his sin of gluttony, he was condemned to this place, the Third Circle of Hell, along with many others, all given over to engorgement. The two men speak of Florence and her politics, lamenting at so few good souls who dwelled within. Dante asks of his friends, Jacopo Rusticucci, Arrigo, Mosca and the others, do they enjoy Heaven's sweetness or have they been cast into the darkness? "They lie below with blacker souls" Ciacco mournfully concedes, beckoning Dante further on. Staring awhile at the living man, Ciacco soon falls down into the muddy wastes to join his voracious kin. Onwards the two poets venture, bemoaning the loss of hope all shades of Hell endure, as the path descends, twists and turns, to the Fourth Circle of Hell.

The Spendthrifts and the Misers
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Upon the doors to the next realm, a swollen figure appears, in the shape of a man, yet muttering nonsensical noises and inane ramblings. This is Plutus, the god of wealth and enemy of man, and this Circle is his realm, to where all who worship riches are condemned. Shouting at the god, Virgil states their purpose as divinely ordained and willed from on high. Plutus shrinks back to the shadows, as the poets enter his domain. Great shouts and bellowings pierce the air, as Dante looks on in shock. Far more spirits are bound here than in any realm above. As though some twisted joust, the souls push enormous weights toward the centre, straining with all their might, sweat pouring from their limbs. When they meet in the centre one asks the other "Why hoard?", while the other "Why waste?", before turning back and beginning again, and again, and again, and again and again. For here are punished the spendthrifts, those who lavished riches in life, and the miserly, those who relentlessly pursued wealth in life yet could not bear to spend any of their own. Dante notices in dismay that there are great many priests and Popes among the damned here, most susceptible to avarice were they. Wondering if he will recognise any among these wretched men, Dante turns to his master. An empty hope, he replies, their lives were undistinguished, as they have become now. So enamoured of their riches are they that they are oblivious to all else around. Disgusted by their insatiable greed, Virgil turns to his follower:

" You see, my son, the short-lived mockery
of all the wealth that is in Fortune's keep,
over which the human race is bickering;

For all the gold that is or ever was
beneath the moon won't buy a moment's rest
for even one among those weary souls. "
- VIRGIL DESPAIRS OF THE FUTILITY OF GREED

The Wrathful
Painting by William-Adolphe Bougereau.

Appalled, and struck with revulsion, Virgil bids Dante on, as the stars which rose when they first met even now begin to fall. Crossing the Circle to a further bank, they pass a boiling spring, which spits and overflows with its raging waters into a ditch. Descending further into the bowels of Hell, Dante notices new faces appearing in the torrents. Filthy people, unclad and faces twisted with anger churned the vile water to rapids, as the stream flowed into the great River Styx. Consumed with their wrath, the souls rip and tear each other, their teeth rending flesh, there hands and feet tearing each other limb from limb. "Now see the souls that anger overcame", Virgil enlightens the curious Dante. Noticing strange bubbles breaking at the surface, Dante is confused. That is all you can see off the slothful, Virgil proclaims. Sluggish in life in the sweet air under the Sun, now they lie gurgling at the bottom of that foul muck. The condemned sing the hymn of their own doom into eternity, yet the bursting bubbles at the surface is all that is heard.

Wednesday, 2 March 2011

“ Down from the high skies the father of men and gods let loose tremendous thunder, from down below Poseidon shook the boundless earth and towering heads of mountains. The whole world quaked, the slopes of Ida with all her springs and all her peaks and the walls of Troy and Achaea’s ships... ”

- ZEUS UNLEASHES WAR UPON THE FIELDS OF TROY

Thetis presents the arms to Achilles
Painting by Giulio Romano.

Newly furnished with a magnificent gift of arms from the forge of Hephaestus himself, with a roar of fury Achilles vowed bloody vengeance upon the sons of Troy, and death to Prince Hector, whose hand had felled his cousin Patroclus (for the immediate lead up to these events, please click here). As the rage pounding through Achilles reached even lofty Olympus, the gods above met in council to lay out the brutal final act of the siege of Troy. But Achilles, one of the greatest warriors ever born, was unleashed upon the field of war, the only place ever his true home.

Seeing the unstoppable power of Achilles gathering its strength, Zeus the Thunderer is worried. The Fates have decreed that Priam’s citadel will indeed fall, but also that Achilles will not be the one to take it, that he must die at Troy. Fearing that Achilles will dare to raze the walls of Troy himself if unopposed, Zeus commands the gods to take their sides and journey down to the field of war, granting aid to whoever their desire drives them. With a flash of lightning, the gods descend from on high, their spirits going one way or another. Hera, Queen of the gods, races to the Achaean ships, followed closely by Poseidon, the god of the sea and Lord of Earthquakes, Athena, the lady of war and wisdom, as well as Hermes the god of messengers and luck and Hephaestus, the god of fire and the forge. But murderous Ares, the god of war himself, swept to the Trojan ranks, flanked by Apollo, the god of the sun and the archer, Artemis his twin sister and Aphrodite of the golden hair.

As gods waged war upon gods, so too down on the plain did man against man. Spying his first foe, Achilles charged upon Aeneas, the son of Aphrodite and cousin of Hector. Breathing strength into the Trojan warrior, Apollo turned to face the wrathful Achilles. Taunting his audacity to face him alone, Achilles sprinted toward Aeneas. Facing his foe honourably, Aeneas hurls his heavy lance at the golden clad Achilles. His aim is true, and surely it would smite the life from Achilles, but no, the glittering gifts of the gods guarded the favoured Achilles. Five plies thick was the Shield of Achilles, the outer two forged of bronze, the inner two of tin and between them one of purest gold. The mighty ashen spear of Aeneas bores through two plies and held fast in the gold. Now Achilles’ turn. Taking up his spear of strong Pelian ash, the son of Peleus hurled with all his might. Straight through Aeneas’ shield the spear punched, but the Trojan crouched low, and the spear soared inches from his head and embedded firmly in the ground behind. Anguish rising in him, Aeneas fears that his time has come, as do the gods above. Drawing his sword, Achilles lunges to strike down the prince, but his blade passes only air, for Poseidon rushes to the field and bears Aeneas away to safety. The Fates have a plan for Aeneas, a magnificent destiny ahead in a distant land, it is not his time.

The Fury of Achilles
Painting by Charles-Antoine Coypel.

Furious at his humbled glory, Achilles charges into the massed ranks of the Trojans. Iphition is the first to fall, as Achilles deals him so violent a blow with his spear that the Trojan’s skull splits in half. His rage growing, Achilles rounds on Demoleon next and, with a shout, spears him in the temple, the bronze helmet buckling before the great warrior, Demoleon’s brains and gore showering his comrades. The carnage rising, Polydorus, the Prince of Troy and brother to Hector, falls to Achilles’ hands, the blood of yet another of Priam’s sons staining the fields of Troy. Then he sees him. Hector himself is close at hand. Gaze fixed upon the man who is the cause of his grief, Achilles speeds toward him as Death to a man. Apollo, seeing the danger, whisks Hector away from the battle. Roaring in defiance at the Heavens, the godlike Achilles hurls himself once again into the thick of war, rage tempered by grief for his fallen cousin. His blade hot with the blood of Trojan sons, and his anger hotter still, Achilles gives chase to his fleeing foe.

Achilles fights the River
Painting by Auguste Couder.

Coming to the banks of the Scamander River, many Trojans, looking upon the golden clad Achilles in terror, hurl themselves into its foaming waters, desperate to escape his spear. But nothing will break the lust for slaughter in Achaea’s greatest champion. Casting aside his great spear, he dives in, relentless in pursuit, hurling countless heroes to the House of Death. But Scamander is angered by the desecration of his waters. Rising from a whirlpool, the shape of a man, the god of the river begs Achilles to stop his rampage, as his channels are already choked with corpses. Scorning the god’s plea, Achilles advances, as Scamander swirls his waters to protect the fleeing Trojans, calling to Apollo for aid. His rage fired once more, Achilles charges the god himself. Bellowing as a bull, Scamander, his white rapids churning in fury, hurls his thunderous currents upon the hero. The powerful torrents batter that mighty shield, forcing Achilles on one knee. Cursing the river’s power, Achilles moves for the bank, eager to return to the battlefield. But the river refuses to let up, crashing upon the furious hero again and again:

“ Again and again the brilliant swift Achilles whirled...

Again and again the mighty crest of the river fed by the rains of Zeus

Came battering down on his shoulders, down from high above

But Achilles kept on leaping, higher, desperate now... ”

- SCAMANDER FIGHTS ACHILLES

Bemoaning that it is better to die under the spear of Hector than broken by the river, the lamentations of Achilles are heard throughout the Heavens. Rushing to his aid, the god Hephaestus, whose mighty hands made the shining armour now protecting Achilles, moves against the river. Conjuring up his divine power, the god of fire unleashes a maelstrom of fiery rage upon Scamander. The elms, willows and tamarisks upon its banks roar with flame, the lotus plants amongst its waters blacken with heat and the creatures within its waves writhe in agony as the blazing inferno takes hold. Hera sends the West and South Winds forth, and a searing gale blasts the Trojan troops, as the whole arena now erupts with fire. His waters bubbling and boiling with agony, Scamader cries in cruel pain, crippled under the onslaught. Relenting at last, the river releases its hold on Achilles, surrendering the great hero to his fate. Hephaestus quenches his flame, and makes his peace with Scamander. Fury pounding through his veins, Achilles leaps from the river and sprints toward the towering walls of Troy, focusing on one thing alone – Hector. The gods above will not interfere this time. This time, there will be no escape for the Prince of Troy, as total war descends upon the vast plains...